


but this feels right (so stay a sec)

by flywiththegryffindork



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, F/M, Jason Todd is Robin, Son of the Demon AU, Talia al Ghul is Trying Her Best, we’re going back to Pre-Grant Morrison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flywiththegryffindork/pseuds/flywiththegryffindork
Summary: They had been in love. They had happy. But a lie tore them apart. Talia must now reveal what truly happened during the events of Son of the Demon, and seek the help of the man she had been trying to protect.(This story is set within the canon of the Son of the Demon (1987) graphic novel, it diverges from canon after Talia sent Bruce away. This absolutely does not contain any of the Grant Morrison/Batman and Son/Batman Inc./etc timeline in which Talia sexually assaults Bruce to conceive Damian)
Relationships: Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 74
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this was in the summary but I wanted to reiterate it! This story is set within the canon of the Son of the Demon (1987) graphic novel, it diverges from canon after Talia sent Bruce away. During their time apart, Bruce took in Jason as his Robin. This absolutely does not contain any of the Grant Morrison/Batman and Son/Batman Inc./etc. timeline in which Talia sexually assaults Bruce to conceive Damian. **I absolutely do not ship Bruce with that version of Talia, and that is not what this story is meant to be** I listened to a Geek History Lesson podcast (linked in the end notes) that explained Talia’s origins, and I wanted a chance to bring back the badass anti-heroine that she is. Hopefully, this accomplishes that. Thanks, enjoy!

“Sir,” Alfred spoke, calling Bruce’s attention away from the Batcomputer for a moment. 

“Yes?” 

He looked in Alfred’s direction, a little surprised at the interruption. It was late afternoon and Bruce was used to spending the last few hours prior to patrol, in the cave, reviewing cases and preparing for nightfall. He glanced back at the computer before Alfred spoke again. 

“Sir, Miss al Ghul awaits you upstairs in the parlor.”

 _That_ was enough to put a quick end to any thoughts he might have had about returning to his work. 

“I’m sorry _—did you say—_ ” Bruce stammered, hoping he’d heard Alfred incorrectly. 

“Miss al Ghul. It’d be best not to keep her waiting. I’m sure she’s been wanting to speak with you for a while how, judging from her current state.”

“Her...current state?”

“She appears...pregnant, Master Bruce.”

Alfred explained, leading them upstairs. Bruce froze on the staircase. 

There were very few things that he neglected to tell Alfred. This, however, was one of them. When he’d spent time with Talia before returning to Gotham, they had consummated their marriage. Afterwards, she had told him that she was pregnant, and later told him that she had lost the baby. They dissolved their marriage and with it went any hope of starting a family with her. He had been heartbroken, and she had insisted that he leave. 

_That_ had been the nature of his understanding until this point, and he had kept many of the details from Alfred, hoping to spare him the pain of knowing. If Alfred was right (as Alfred typically is), then she had lied to him. And this was the sort of betrayal that isn’t easily forgiven, and never forgotten.

Bruce followed Alfred after a moment, taking a breath, trying to hold himself together as he reasoned out the new information. When they arrived in the parlor, Alfred gave Bruce a slight nod, before exiting the room to give them both some privacy. 

Bruce’s eyes landed on Talia immediately. She sat, legs crossed on an antique sofa. 

Her dark hair was tied back in a braid, and she was dressed in an emerald tunic, black leggings, and silk flats. The swell of her stomach was impossible to ignore. She’d be at the beginning of her sixth month, if Bruce’s calculations were correct. 

“Hello, Beloved,” Talia spoke, her dark green eyes were upon him as soon as he stepped into the room. 

“You lied to me,” he said, standing in the doorway, not bothering to move any closer to her.

She drew in a breath and nodded, no sign of regret written on her face. 

“Yes. Knowing about the pregnancy was making you weak. You made poor combat decisions to protect me. I knew you would be a better warrior if that was no longer an issue,” she said, meeting his gaze. 

“I was happy,” Bruce muttered, crossing the room to finally sit down in a chair across from her. 

He _had_ been happy. If he were honest with himself, it was the brightest moment of happiness he’d had since losing his parents. And she’d stolen that from him in a blink. 

He ran a hand down his face and spoke again.

“Why are you here, then? Why not just keep up the lie?”

He asked, and she shook her head. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it were up to me, but I have nowhere else to turn. I want to stay with you only until the child is born. I am in danger, and as much as I hate to admit it—I’m in no longer in a position to defend myself.”

She frowned, as though it had been difficult to force those words out. It was no small thing that she was admitting a weakness to him. 

There was no good exit to this conversation. She had just asked to stay in his home, and she knew he wouldn’t say no. Not if she was in danger and pregnant with his child. He might be angry at her, but it didn’t matter. And if he sent her away and something happened, he could never live with himself. 

“What sort of danger?”

“My father has been looking for a true heir to the League for centuries now, you know this.”

“Yes.”

“As a woman, I have never been worthy in his sight. You have chosen another path. And the child is male. He believes that the boy will be the true heir to the League,” she sighed and Bruce frowned.

“I don’t see the danger here.”

“None from my father, no. I’m honored that my son will become the Demon’s Head one day. But word of this has made its way to our enemies, and there have been multiple threats on my life.”

“Why not stay with the League? Why come to me?” Bruce asked. She sighed again, as though she had been anticipating his question.

“Beloved, no one knows to look for me here. If I’m hidden somewhere safe, the League’s resources can be better utilized elsewhere. You and I both know that some situations are better handled with stealth over force.”

The sound of the front door opening and shutting was enough to draw Bruce’s attention away from her for a moment. Jay was home, which meant he would need to explain this situation to _him,_ and he wasn’t even fully clear on it himself. 

“You can stay until the baby’s born. You’ll be safe here. We can have the custody discussion later. Until then, make yourself at home. I’ll have Alfred set you up with a guest bedroom.”

He stood, and began to walk out of the room. She stood too, blinking in surprise at his statement.

“There’s no custody discussion to be had, the child is going back with me.”

She says, walking beside him as he left the parlor. He headed for his study, stepping inside and making his way to the grandfather clock. He didn’t glance back at her when he spoke again. 

“Later, Talia.”

He said, and left for the cave to find Jason and attempt an explanation before patrol. 

* * *

Talia released a long sigh, letting Bruce walk away from her as she stood alone in the manor. He slipped behind the grandfather clock without another word, and she found herself at a loss. 

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Any reasonable person would be angry, of course. She had hidden their baby and when they had last been together he was _so_ incredibly happy at the prospect of having a family with her. But even with the lie revealed, she hadn’t expected him to be so cold with her. Or to place her in a guest room like she was a stranger. 

Perhaps he would understand in time that she had only wanted to protect him. He had made dangerous decisions that threatened his own life and their mission to avenge her mother. Hiding her further pregnancy from him had made sense, and brought him back to himself. One day he would see that and thank her for it. Until then— she supposed she must be grateful that he allowed her to stay at all.

Talia reluctantly turned away from the clock and walked back towards the parlor where she had been waiting earlier. If this was to be her home for the next several months, she might as well get familiar with the place. She had visited before, but she hadn’t had time to truly mark the details of the manor. When she encountered a new place, she typically found the escape routes and noted the security measures protecting the area—that was it, more or less. The furniture, the photographs, and the decor were all superfluous. 

As she wandered back towards the parlor, she found herself glancing over the portraits in the hallway. 

Bruce, as a child, looked back at her from one. His parents stood on either side of him, and the three of them looked happy together. Talia studied the boy’s features, absently wondering if their son would share them—perhaps his blue eyes or the hidden dimples that appeared when he truly smiled. Not many had the privilege of seeing them now, but she took pride in having been the cause on more than one occasion. 

She hummed a little at the thought, and moved on. 

There were other portraits of Bruce, this time with the parents absent. He was sullen, unsmiling, looking as though the space where his parents had been might swallow him up. There were a few of him at different ages, before he was an adult and a young boy joined him.

These framed photos were more casual, with the boy on Bruce’s shoulders at a baseball game in one, excitedly holding up adoption papers in another. The child was all bright eyes and big cheeky grins. Bruce seemed happier, compared to the earlier portraits. If she understood correctly, the boy was Richard Grayson. Now grown, he spent his nights breaking the law as a lone vigilante, and his days enforcing it as a police officer in a neighboring city. 

The final photo was of Bruce, Richard, and another child. The three of them appeared to be celebrating the younger boy’s birthday, huddled around his cake. With their dark hair, the three of them looked like they could easily be blood. The younger boy smiled at whoever was pointing the camera, but she could see that there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. If she had to guess, that cake ended up everywhere but the plate. 

“Admiring the photos, Miss Talia?” 

A voice called. She silently cursed herself for not hearing him walk up, but turned to Alfred and nodded. 

“I’m assuming you took them?”

“Most of them, yes. The early Wayne portraits were painted by a professional, however. I’m not much of an artist, I’m afraid.”

Alfred said, and Talia nodded again. She was fond of Alfred, he’d always been kind to her when she visited. 

“They’re lovely photos.”

“Thank you. Now then, I have a bedroom prepared for you, would you like to see it?” 

He asked, leading the way upstairs toward her room before she had a chance to respond. 

She followed him, and he led her to a bedroom across the hall from the one Bruce slept in. It was clearly a guest room with an en suite, impersonally decorated with a simple bed, a dresser, and bedside table. 

The sheets were already turned down, and her luggage had been brought up for her. 

“Are the accommodations to your liking? If there’s anything else you need, I can make arrangements,” Alfred offered, and Talia’s lips twitched up a little. 

“They’re perfect, thank you. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning, I’m sure.”

He nodded and turned away, before stopping in the doorway. 

“Miss Talia?”

“Yes, Alfred?”

She asked, her brow furrowing. 

“About the baby—I want you to know that although his isn’t my blood, I see him as my grandson. Just like the others. You should know that he would be...loved and protected here.” 

He said, his voice quiet. 

His words had weight, but she knew he was suggesting she leave her child there. And that wasn’t going to happen. It was a nice sentiment, but her son would fulfill his destiny, as her father’s rightful heir. 

“I appreciate that, Alfred. Thank you. Good night,” she said and he exited, closing the door behind him. 

* * *

“So she’s your ex-wife?” Jason asked, looking up at Bruce from the passenger seat of the Batmobile. His feet were up on the dash, which Bruce had chided him over and over for, to more avail. 

“Yes.”

“And you knocked her up?” Jason asked, that Gothamite accent of his shining through with the crude slang. 

Bruce frowned beneath the cowl, shaking his head. 

“She’s _pregnant_. Jay. We talked about the slang, didn’t we? How we don’t use it in polite conversation?”

“Yeah, yeah we did. Sorry, B. So she’s staying with us ‘till the baby’s born?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?” 

At twelve years old, Jason was as curious as Dick had been, if not more so. The kid wasn’t always this talkative, but he devoured books like there was no tomorrow. He knew what it was like to crave knowledge, and reminding himself of that feeling kept him patient with his son. 

“Then...I don’t know. I’d like him to stay with us. I think he’d be better off, but I don’t believe his mother will allow it. So we’ll see,” Bruce admitted, glancing back over to the boy. 

“With _us_?” Jason asked, tilting his head a little.

“Yes—with me and you and Alfred. Is that alright with you?”

Bruce pulled the car into the cave, and turned off the engine. Jason didn’t answer the question. Bruce took off the cowl to look at him, frowning as the boy glared out the window. 

“Jason...” 

He heard the boy sniffle. 

“Yeah. Yeah, B. It’s okay with me. Your kid can stay with us,” Jason bit out, before he threw open the door of the Batmobile and climbed out. Bruce followed, rushing behind the boy as Jason brushed past Alfred for the stairs. 

“Hey—Jason, slow down—”

Bruce called, but the boy didn’t slow. He ran all the way upstairs to his bedroom and slammed his door shut behind him. Bruce heaved a sigh, looking back at Alfred as he came up behind him. 

“Leave him be. You know he needs time to cool off. Let him come to you when he wants to talk,”

Alfred said, before he patted Bruce’s shoulder and turned away. 

“Good night, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master Bruce.” He reluctantly stepped away from Jason’s bedroom door, heading for his own room. 

Eventually, morning would come—and he had a feeling that it may bring chaos.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are nightmares, hobbits, and French toast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you for the wonderful comments and kudos on the last chapter, they mean so much to me!

Chaos, by its nature, didn’t wait until morning. 

It greeted Bruce as a scream in the night. 

He bolted upright in bed as soon as he heard it, and ran into the hallway. No security alarms rang out. No one else seemed to have heard it. 

He stopped and listened. He heard a sob ring out from across the hall, and he walked over to the guest bedroom.

“Talia?”

He called out, to no reply. He knocked on the door. Nothing but the sound of crying. He frowned, worried about her. He didn’t like the thought of opening her door, but if she were sick or needed help, it was worth invading her privacy for the moment. He grabbed the emergency key from above the door frame, checking the lock before he used the key to open the door.

He cracked it open, and a dark object whirled at him. He hit the ground quickly, a flash of hot pain caught his ear and he cursed under his breath when something warm began to drip down the side of his neck. He glanced over to the object that had been thrown at him—a knife.

He called her name again, rising to his feet and raising his fists defensively. He glanced around the moonlit room for a threat but found nothing. Talia was sitting up in bed with her face in her hands. 

She’d thrown the knife at him, and it felt insane—but he was relieved. There wasn’t an intruder, and she’d only managed to clip his ear. Decades of training had built reflexes that taught her to defend herself first, ask questions later. He slowly approached the bedside, before she looked up. 

“Bruce?”

He frowned at her, taking in just how distraught she appeared. She was shaking, and there were tears running down her cheeks. And of course, it was rare to hear his name pass her lips—it was always _Beloved_ or _My Love_. He couldn’t place the last time he heard her say his name that way.

“It’s alright...it’s just me. What’s wrong?” He asked, voice low, and carefully sat down on the side of the bed. 

“Nightmare,” she murmured, raking a hand down her face.

“The Pit?”

He asked and she nodded, staring down at her hands. 

“Did I hurt you?”

She asked after a long moment, before she looked back up at him.

“It’s nothing. Just scratched my ear,” he said, shaking his head. 

She breathed a trembling sigh, forcing herself to relax a little further. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t—do well at night in new places. And my dreams are more vivid now, with the pregnancy.”

Bruce nodded at her explanation, he’d had his fair share of nightmares. And he was familiar with hers, as well. As angry as he was about the lie, it didn’t change the fact that he still knew her better than anyone else. Or that he still cared about her. He had never stopped.

“You’ve got no reason to apologize. I—just wanted to make sure you were alright, I’ll let you go back to bed now,” he murmured, starting to stand. 

“Won’t you stay?”

She asked, and he frowned a little. He should say “no”. After what she did, he’d have every right to leave her alone in the dark. 

Instead he reached over to the bedside table and flipped on the lamp. It always helped to have a light on after a nightmare. It was a trick that’d been passed to him by Alfred, who had helped him through many a childhood nightmare—and a trick he’d used with his boys more times than he could count. 

Then, he stood up, and walked towards the door.

* * *

Talia frowned when she saw him walk away from her, dread pooling in her stomach at the prospect of being left alone with her thoughts.

But he returned. 

She smirked a little when she realized he had stepped into the hallway to retrieve her knife. He placed it on her side table, and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. He returned a few moments later, and joined her on the bed again. The blood was gone from his neck, and he handed her a wad of toilet paper.

“Thank you,” she murmured, accepting the paper before wiping away her tears with it.

“Of course,” he replied, and she moved over for him. He inched closer to her, pulling up the blankets around them and wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

She hadn’t expected him to truly stay, let alone hold her. But he was warm and it was welcome. She allowed herself to relax into the familiarity of his embrace, and sighed. She didn’t want to move, afraid she may break the spell and somehow remind him that he was supposed to be mad at her. 

She tried closing her eyes, for a moment, but her dream still lingered. 

_Agony. Death. The Pit. Life. Confusion. Fear._

“Have you thought of a name for him?”

Bruce asked, and her eyes snapped open. 

She wondered for a moment if he somehow knew that she needed the distraction he offered. She smiled a little and brushed her hand over her belly.

“Not yet. Remind me—what was your father’s name?”

“Thomas,” he murmured, as though he were beginning to fall asleep, “But we can’t name him Thomas.”

“Why’s that?”

“He should have something that’s his own. Don’t want him saddled with a family name. It’s never an easy burden,” Bruce explained, his fingertips rubbing gentle circles against her shoulder.

“Mm...I’m sure that we’ll find something that suits him, eventually,” she said, before falling silent once more.

“And he’s...doing okay? Both of you are healthy?” 

Talia nodded, her heart aching a little at his questions. It hadn’t occurred to her how deeply the lie affected him, until that moment. Though her intentions had been good, she hurt him more than she had realized.

“We’re doing well, Beloved.”

“Good, I’m—I’m glad,” he said, his arm tightening around her just slightly. 

They fell into silence again after that, and before she knew it, she had been pulled back into sleep.

* * *

Jason dragged himself downstairs the next morning, still groggy from the night before. He rubbed his eyes a little, slinking towards the kitchen and climbing up onto the countertop. He dug through the cabinets and found a box of Lucky Charms, where Alfred had hidden it behind the Cheerios and Raisin Bran. 

“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred greeted, walking into the kitchen and setting down a few bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. He considered chiding the boy for sitting there, but he’d had a long night. He let it go.

“‘Morning, Alfie.”

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” the child shrugged a little, digging his hand into the cereal box and tossing some into his mouth. 

Alfred pulled a fresh bottle of orange juice out of the grocery bag and poured a glass for Jason, setting it beside him.

“Thanks,” Jason smiled a little and drank some, while Alfred put away the rest of the groceries.

“You’re very welcome. If your appetite isn’t completely ruined, perhaps a real meal? I was thinking eggs, bacon and—pancakes, perhaps?”

Alfred turned, raising an eyebrow. Jason grinned and shook his head.

“French toast?”

“French toast it is. We haven’t had it since your birthday, I believe,” Alfred hummed and began working, while Jason watched. He let the boy help him. They spent the next hour or so working on breakfast, making enough for the two of them, Bruce, and Talia.

“I think we’re done,” Jason grinned, looking proud of himself as he finished dusting powdered sugar over the French toast. He wiped his hands on his pajama pants, and looked up at Alfred. 

“It seems so, would you like to go wake up Master Bruce and Miss Talia?”

Jason frowned at the suggestion, and shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well, they’ll be eating with us. Why don’t you set the table, then? I’ll go get them,” Alfred said, and Jason walked off to complete his task. 

Alfred headed upstairs to get them, knocking first on Bruce’s bedroom door, to no reply. He opened the door, and found it empty. He sighed, almost expecting as much. He turned to Talia’s room across the hall, knocking loudly on the door, thanking God above that he let Jason escape this duty. He paused, waiting for a response this time. 

“Miss Talia, Master Bruce. Breakfast is ready.”

* * *

“We’ll be down in a few minutes, Alfred. Thank you,” Talia called back through the door.”

Bruce was still asleep, and she was reluctant to wake him. She eased out of bed, stretching a little. She frowned when she stood up, her back aching as she walked to the bathroom. By the time she used it and exited, Bruce was sitting up in bed. The loss of her weight and warmth beside him was enough to wake him.

“Alfred said that he has breakfast prepared, Beloved,” she said, grabbing a robe from her suitcase and wrapping it around her.

He nodded, his lips twitching up. 

“We better not keep him waiting, then,” he said, before he stood and headed for the door. She followed behind him, but he paused in the hallway.

“My son, Jason will be downstairs,” he explained, turning to look at her.

“He’s your new Robin?”

“Yes...I told him you would be staying with us, last night. He was upset, and he can be a bit standoffish around new people,” Bruce warned, and Talia shrugged a little.

“I can be a bit standoffish too,” she said, nonchalant, before heading downstairs to the dining room. 

Bruce shook his head and followed behind her. She and Jason would either clash horribly, or become the best of friends, he was certain of it. 

He found Jay and Alfred at the dining room table, waiting on them and talking about the last book the boy had read. It was _The Hobbit_ , and he knew that Jason was looking forward to chatting with him about it too. 

They had a bit of a tradition. The Sunday night after Jason finished a book (or two), he and Bruce would sit in his study with tea and cookies, and do what Jason had decided to call a “book debriefing”. They’d talk about their opinions and questions and interpretations of literature, until both of them were too tired to continue. It had begun as an exercise to get Jason to open up a little, when he first arrived at the manor. Now, the child seemed to enjoy it, and Bruce looked forward to it on a weekly basis. 

Bruce sat down at the head of the table, with Talia beside him. Jason stopped talking.

“Good morning, Alfred. And you must be Jason. Good morning, to you too,” Talia greeted.

Jason didn’t respond, and glared at her briefly before turning his attention to piling food on his plate.

“Good morning, Miss Talia. Please, help yourself to the food, there’s plenty. I know you don’t eat bacon, but there’s eggs, French toast, and fruit here. If that’s not suitable, I have—” Alfred started, but Talia politely waved him off.

“It looks wonderful, I don’t think I could have asked for anything better,” she replied, filling up a plate of food for herself, with a smile.

“I hope you enjoy it, then,” he smiled in return, and the table fell silent as they ate.

“So, Jason...did you help cook this meal?” Talia asked, turning to look at the boy. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s delicious. What did you make?”

“The French toast.”

The boy was a challenge. She didn’t need him to like her, few people did, anyhow. But it was going to be a difficult three months if the child wouldn’t speak to her. The night before had been nice, but things were not yet fixed between her and Bruce. She wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive her, and Alfred seemed to be the only person in the manor that didn’t have a problem with her being there.

“I’m not talented in the kitchen, perhaps you’ll have to teach me someday.”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

“Were you telling Alfred about _The Hobbit_ , earlier?” She asked, and the boy’s eyes snapped up to her.

She had found it, then. The spark. She briefly glanced at Bruce with a slight smile, who watched the exchange with interest.

“You know Tolkien?”

“I do, yes.”

“What was your favorite part? I thought the songs were really cool—I don’t think I’ve ever read a book where the author actually wrote in songs. And if you wanted, you could even put music to them, ya know? It’s just crazy how much worldbuilding went into it—I can’t wait to read the next books. But I can’t decide if I should read _The_ _Silmarillion_ before or after _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy—“

Jason went on and on about the books, and she politely answered his questions until Bruce announced that they needed to go down to the cave for training. 

“Can Miss Talia come watch us?” Jason asked, and Bruce nodded.

Talia followed them downstairs, to watch them train. She was able to lend her expertise at times, correcting Jason’s form when Bruce was walking him through a move. 

When they went to patrol that evening, she found herself looking back on the day and realizing that it was probably the first truly good one she’d had in a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there’s a Kill Bill reference, back handsprings, and good dad Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in updating! I was hit by writer’s block on this chapter and I’m back to working full-time after the holidays, thank you all for being so patient! I hope you enjoy!

The next day, Talia found herself training Jason. It hadn’t been her intention, but somehow things had worked out that way. The boy had finished his homework early that evening, and Bruce was wrapped up with doing research for a case. Jason had asked her to work with him, while Bruce was working at the computer. 

She was fairly certain that the boy hadn’t realized _who_ exactly he was asking to train him. She’d gently corrected him the day before, but when she was in control of the training herself, it was a different story. Gentle correction had never been her style.

“Do it again, correctly this time,” Talia said with a frown, her arms crossed as she watched Jason perform a back handspring on the training mats. The boy huffed and marched toward her, the irritation radiating off of him.

“It was _fine_. I’ve done it in front of B a thousand times and he’s never had a problem with it.”

“Oh? And do your wrists feel _fine_?”

She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He scowled.

He hadn’t mentioned his wrists hurting, but if he had been doing his back handsprings that way for any amount of time, she was certain they did.

“Turn your hands inward and keep your arms closer together. Again,” she commanded, and he returned to the mat. 

This time, he seemed like he was trying to self correct. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better, at least.

“Again.”

He didn’t say another word, but tried the move again. Still, not perfect. Better. She was tempted to make him do it over and over again until it was perfect, as her father would have. Instead, she sighed.

“Get some water, let’s come back to this, Jason.”

The child nodded, looking a little relieved. He grabbed a water bottle from a mini fridge nearby, and sat down beside her on a bench by the mats. 

“You’re pretty tough, you know that?”

Jason muttered, shaking his head and wiping some sweat on his sleeve.

“So I’ve been told,” she replied, glancing over at him.

“You a hero too?” 

He asked, and she truly looked surprised.

“What?”

“Are you a hero? Or a vigilante or whatever, like me and Batman?”

She shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her.

“No, not at all.”

“How do you know all this stuff, then?”

“I was trained by my father.”

“Is he a hero?”

“Most certainly not.”

She glanced back at where Bruce was working at the Batcomputer, completely oblivious to the conversation, before looking back to Jason. She sighed, before fully answering Jason’s question. 

“I was trained as an assassin.”

“Like—the chick in Kill Bill?”

Jason asked and Talia raised an eyebrow at the question. 

“I suppose so, yes. Does Batman allow you to watch R-rated movies?”

She asked and Jason shook his head, grinning a little. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

She smirked, and shook her head.

“Tell what?”

* * *

“Jason wouldn’t stop telling me about your training session today. You’re good with him,” Bruce commented, pulling off the cowl later that night. He and Jason had just finished patrol, and the boy had already gone upstairs to shower and sleep. Talia had lingered in the cave all evening, throwing stars and knives at targets, trying to maintain her skills. 

“I’m trying,” she murmured, releasing a breath and turning to him. 

“It’s only been a few days, but I can see that,” he said, approaching her. He let his eyes roam over her over for a moment, but kept his hands at his side. 

“You should be...cautious, Talia. His home life before this was...rough. And if you leave after the baby’s born, it might hurt him. He doesn’t click with people easily.”

“ _If_ I leave?”

“When,” he corrected, frowning. 

She nodded, and threw another star at a target. She hit it dead-center, before glancing back at him. 

“I understand.”

She sighed, and walked back to the target, pulling her weapons from it and returning to the spot she was standing in.

“Anything else, beloved?” 

She asked, realizing that he hadn’t moved from the spot where he was standing.

“No, nothing. Good night,” he said and turned away to change clothes in the cave before going up to the manor. 

He left her downstairs, and headed to his bedroom. He opened the door and sighed when he found Jason curled up on his bed, asleep with a book in his hand. 

He carefully scooped the boy up, book and all, and carried him back to his bedroom. Jason stirred a little at the movement, but remained asleep while Bruce laid him down in his own bed. He tucked the boy in, pulling his Gotham Knights bedsheets and blankets up to make sure he wouldn’t get cold in the night. He flipped on Jason’s nightlight, pecked a kiss to the top of his son’s head, then started walking towards the door.

“B?” 

Bruce stops and turns, glancing back to see the boy sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. 

“Yes?”

“Can I stay for a while?”

Bruce frowned, and walked back over to his son’s bedside.

“What do you mean?”

“Well—I know you’ve gotta new kid now and stuff and you’ll want him to be Robin but I just figured—I dunno much about babies, but maybe if I help out around here you’d lemme stay?” Jason asked, still sounding half-groggy from sleep. 

Bruce felt his heart sink and took a deep breath, thinking over his words. It made sense now, that Jason had been upset about finding out that the plan was to have the baby stay with them. It wasn’t jealousy—it was fear of being kicked out of the only stable home he’d ever had. He sat down heavily on the boy’s bed, looking him in the eyes. 

“Jason, you’re my son. You’ll always be my son, and you’ll always have a home here. I love you. Nothing will ever, _ever,_ change that. You can be Robin until you decide you want to do something else, okay?” 

Jason’s eyes widened a little at hearing that. Before Bruce could get another word out, Jason’s arms were wrapped around him. He hugged him tightly in return, before pulling away and resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. 

“You’re going to be a great big brother. You’re already a great son. Now, get some sleep, you don’t want to be falling asleep on your big field trip. Good night,” Bruce said, giving Jason’s hair a quick ruffle before standing up and heading for the door. 

“‘Night, B,” Jason murmured, a small smile still on his face. He pulled the covers back up around him, and laid back down, relieved at Bruce’s assurance.

* * *

Bruce was unsure why, but he found himself walking towards Talia’s bedroom and knocking on the door. The light was still on, so he assumed she was still awake. She opened the door a few moments later, she raised a brow at the sight of him, surprised he’d seek her out.

“Yes?” 

“I figured out why he was upset,” he murmured, running a hand down his face, before getting a good glance at her. 

Talia was wrapped in a black silk robe, her hand resting on the small of her back. She frowned and stepped back from the door, giving him the space to step inside.

“Jason?”

She asked, walking back towards the bed. There were two swords lying on it, where she’d apparently been cleaning them. She sheathed them both, and sat them on the bedside table, next to the oil and cloth she’d been using on them. Bruce nodded and followed, sitting down on the edge of her bed once it was clear.

“He thought having the baby around would mean that I’d send him back to the streets,” he sighed, meeting her eyes. 

“You won’t have the baby around for very long, we’ll be on our way out once I’m recovered. I’m sure if you explain that to him, he’ll see that he has nothing to worry about.”

“Talia—I think you’re missing my point, here...”

“Yes, yes. I understand that you view the boy as your own. If you don’t want to use my explanation, that’s fine. I’m sure he’ll see that you don’t plan on kicking him out, Beloved,” she shrugged, looking back at him as though she still couldn’t quite understand why he had come to her. 

“I want him.”

“Of course you do, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have taken him in.” 

“I mean—” he sighed, “I want our son, too. I don’t want you to take him.”

Her eyes widened at that, and she shook her head.

“Are we truly having this discussion at two in the morning?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, her lips in a hard line. 

“We may as well. We could give him a childhood here. He’d have older brothers. He’d be able to go to school someday—don’t you want him to have those things?”

“I want what’s best for him.”

“And that’s—what? Being trained as a weapon until he can do your father’s bidding?” Bruce said, but Talia’s face betrayed nothing. 

“Like me,” she murmured.

“Like you, yes. Do you truly want that for him? How many times have you lived and died for the sake of the League?”

“Too many.”

“And it’s the same thing that keeps you up at night. You and I both know that you were never allowed to be a child. It’s something both of us lost, but—he could have what we never did.”

Talia stood up, walking from the bed to the window. She stood with her back to him, staring out the window. The faint glow of Gotham could be seen in the distance. 

“I won’t leave without him.”

“Then stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do research on proper form for back handsprings, but I don’t tumble so if I got anything wrong, apologies! Don’t use me for tumbling advice, please!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which decisions are made, Alfred regrets his war on slang, and a weird little family is formed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I’m so sorry about taking forever to update! Things have been crazy busy lately, hope you enjoy! Thanks for sticking with me!

* * *

“Then stay.”

Talia was thankful that she had her back to him, because she certainly didn’t want him seeing the look on her face. She froze, and there was a long moment where she thought she forgot how to breathe. 

_Then stay._

Surely, he didn’t truly want her to stay. Surely, he wanted the baby and she was the baggage attached. He couldn’t have their son without her, so he’d accept the inconvenience of having her around. 

“You know I can’t do that,” she responded, still turned away from him. 

“Why not?”

 _Why not?_ _Did he actually want her there?_

“He’s meant to be the Heir to the Demon.”

“Ra’s doesn’t need an heir if he never plans on dying, Talia.”

Bruce stood up, walking towards the window where she stood. 

“Tell me what it is you want...” he murmured, his voice quiet.

It had been so long since someone asked her what she wanted. The things that she wanted often fell to the wayside. She wanted him. She wanted to mend this rift she had created. She wanted to have back what they had. She wanted a chance to have a life outside of the one that had been chosen for her.

But she said, “I told you, I want what’s best for him.”

It was honest, but it also wasn’t half of what she felt. Bruce was still and quiet for a long time beside her, and it surprised her when he spoke again.

“Do you know what I want?” 

He asked, and she glanced at him, with an eyebrow lifted.

“What’s that, Beloved?”

“This.”

“This?”

“Yes,” he murmured, sucking in a tight breath, “I want this. I have never stopped wanting this. Every day after you sent me away, I wished that somehow it had all been a bad dream—that somehow you could still be with me and that we could still have a family. Now, there’s an opportunity to have that. It’s come at a high price, but it’s still here.”

He released a long sigh, then stepped back, away from her. She couldn’t find the words to respond to his declaration. She had missed him, and to know that he wanted her there too was completely unexpected and wonderful. At the same time, however, he was right. She’d lost the trust they had built together.

“Just...consider that. Good night, Talia.”

“Good night, darling,” she finally replied, watching as he walked out of her bedroom. 

* * *

Bruce walked to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed. He didn’t bother undressing or pulling the sheets down, he just fell into sleep. It was dreamless, but dreamless was better than nightmares.

Alfred woke him the next morning, before Jason left for school. They had a quiet breakfast, with Talia absent while they ate. After saying goodbye to Jason and Alfred, he found himself heading downstairs to the cave. Nothing at Wayne Enterprises needed his attention until the afternoon, and he had a few cases that were still open. Something caught his attention as he headed for the grandfather clock, however. 

A chess set that typically remained untouched on the study’s coffee table had been tampered with. He stepped over to look at it, smirking a little as he noticed that a single white piece had been moved forward—the start of a game. If Alfred wanted to play, he would have asked, and it wasn’t a move that Jason would make. It was a simple, but strategic pawn placement that set up for the next three following moves.

Bruce moved a black piece in response to Talia’s opening move, then continued down to the cave. He had spent some time playing chess with Ra’s the last time they’d been on friendly terms, and wasn’t surprised that Talia was skilled in the game as well. 

After a few hours of working at the Batcomputer, he heard Talia make her way down the stairs to the cave. Her footsteps were heavier, thanks to the extra weight she carried. Thus, her typically silent steps were easily detectable. He didn’t look up from his work as she came up behind him. She stood silently, watching over his shoulder for a long moment.

“If I am truly welcome here, I will stay,” she said, speaking quietly. 

Shocked, he spun to look at her.

“You mean that?” 

“Yes. I have considered how my father may react...and he’s still fond of you. I think that he may allow it. We could tell him that we’d train the boy, like you’ve trained your other sons. Then he could step up to become the heir, when he’s old enough,” she explained, absently reaching out and brushing her hand along Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want him ‘stepping up’, Talia,” Bruce said, shaking his head.

“It’s what we would tell him. By the time our son is old enough, it wouldn’t matter. He could choose his own path.” 

“Your father wouldn’t question it?”

“Not if it came from you. I think you’re right, that we have the chance to give our child the life we never had. And, I—I want it too.”

She said, and he stood to finally approach her. He reached out, and took her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I don’t know if it can be the way that it was before. But I want to try to make this work.”

“So do I,” she smiled then, and squeezed his hand in return.

* * *

When Jason returned home from his field trip, things at the manor had shifted. It didn’t take a genius to notice that Bruce and Talia were behaving differently than they had been. They seemed much more comfortable sitting in the same room together, and it was weirding Jason out. 

He opted to bring it up with Alfred, who knew everything there was to possibly know about Bruce. Jason had come to a stopping point in his math homework, and put his pencil down at the kitchen table. He looked up at Alfred, who was sipping a cup of tea and working on the Gotham Gazette’s daily crossword.

“So Bruce and Talia...are they screwin’ again or something?”

Jason asked, and Alfred choked on a sip of tea. 

“Master Jason—” he coughed, placing his teacup down with a clamor.

Jason rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah I know. No slang. Are they _having sex_ again or something?” Jason asked. 

By the time Alfred regained his composure, he almost wished Jason would have just stuck with the slang, because hearing the child explicitly mention sex was somehow worse. 

“My boy, I don’t believe that’s any of our business. And I do believe there are some things that we are better off not knowing. Math, however, is not one of those things. Back to work, you’re almost finished and then we can look over it.”

Jason sighs, exasperated. 

“When am I even going to use this stuff anyway? I’m _Robin_ , Robin doesn’t need pre-algebra.”

Talia walked into the kitchen mid-complaint, shaking her head. She walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, and an apple out of the fruit bowl.

“Perhaps not, but Robin needs problem-solving skills, don’t you think?” 

She asked, glancing over to where Jason was sitting.

“Nobody asked you,” he said with a scowl, which for some reason, drew her over to the table to take a seat beside him.

“You could be done by now, if you put as much effort into your schoolwork as you do complaining...”

She clicked her tongue, and took a bite of her apple, leaning back in her seat. Jason huffed, but he looked back down at his homework and began working again. He was eager to be done with it and though he’d never admit it, she was right. In the time he’d wasted complaining, he could’ve already been finished and upstairs reading.

“Alfred, I spoke to Bruce, and he invited me to stay,” Talia said, once Jason had returned to his work.

“Ah, is that so?”

“It is. And I’d like to take him up on the offer, and raise our son here, if you’d have us.”

Jason paused at hearing that, dropping his pencil again and looking up at the two adults sitting at the table with him. Alfred smiled. 

“Miss Talia, you are more than welcome. I was hoping that you would be able to come to an arrangement. I do believe this will be the safest place for the two of you, and it will certainly be a joy to have a baby here for the first time in decades.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Jason, is this alright with you, as well? This is your home, too.” 

She asked, looking over to the boy. 

He hadn’t expected her to care what he thought. He blinked for a moment, then shrugged, trying to shake off his surprise at being asked.

“Sure, I guess it’s okay,” he said, recalling the conversation that he had the night before.

The prospect of another kid being around freaked him out a little, but Bruce wouldn’t lie to him. He trusted that. Nobody planned on kicking him out. Nobody wanted to pull him away from this family. 

“I’m glad, Jason. Thank you.”

“Miss Talia?” He asked, taking a deep breath and looking up at her.

“Hm?”

“You know...you’re not my mom now, right? Just ‘cause you’re screwin’ Bruce doesn’t mean you’re my mom,” he said.

He didn’t seem angry or defensive, just determined that she understood his statement.

“Master Jason—“ Alfred responded, his tone warning Jason that he’d stepped out of bounds when it came to etiquette. 

Talia shook her head, waving Alfred off. She met Jason’s eyes, her gaze sincere.

“I would never try to replace your mother, Jason. I don’t know anything about her, but I know my own experience. My mother was killed in front of me, and there will never be anything that could take her place in my heart. But I do hope that perhaps you’ll see me as part of your family someday... _and_ that you’ll finish your homework.”

Jason listened intently to her, nodding solemnly when she explained how she lost her own mother. He couldn’t help but laugh at her final statement, though. He shook his head and looked back down at his work with a smirk.

“Someday.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a son returns home, wounds are treated, and our sleep deprived characters get some rest

Dick Grayson was not one to come home often. He visited at holidays and birthdays when family gatherings were somewhat mandatory. 

And then, there were times like these. 

He had been working on minimal resources in Blüdhaven and unfortunately he didn’t have what he needed to deal with the problem at hand—that problem being an open case that tracked back to a Gotham rogue. And a gunshot wound to the shoulder. 

Bruce, however, had extensive dossiers on every criminal that caused trouble in his city, and Dick needed access to those dossiers. And medical equipment. 

His shoulder was the more pressing issue, of course. He had caught a bullet stopping a bank robbery earlier that night, and there had been enough people there that he could easily be tied to Nightwing if he went to the hospital. He had managed to get the bleeding under control with combat gauze and bandages, but he really needed stitches. 

Dick pulled his motorcycle into the Batcave, hopping off of it and looking around for someone to help him. The cave was empty, but the Batmobile was there, and the hood was still warm. Bruce and Jason had likely just come in for the night. It was early morning, after all and he hadn’t bothered to call ahead. 

He made his way upstairs to the manor, looking around and following the sound of low voices toward the den. He froze there, taking in the sight before him.

Three people were seated on the couch. Jason was asleep, still in the Robin costume, heavily leaning against his dad’s shoulder. Bruce had changed already, wearing a t-shirt and sweats, holding a steaming mug and speaking in a low voice to a woman sitting on Jason’s other side. She had a mug as well, and was smiling at Bruce as though she were completely content.

“Bruce,” Dick spoke, blinking in surprise, his shoulder briefly forgotten. 

Bruce glanced at him with a frown, then at Talia, before carefully easing Jason off of his shoulder, abandoning his mug, and standing up. 

“Dick—what are you doing here?” Bruce asked, his voice low, trying not to disturb his sleeping son. 

“I got shot. What the _hell_ is _she_ doing here?” 

Bruce stood in front of him, his eyes falling to the bandages wrapped tightly around Dick’s wound. Wordlessly, he shook his head and started for the cave, expecting Dick to follow. 

He did, quietly resenting the fact that it was still his first instinct to follow Batman without question. 

Once they made it downstairs to the cave’s medical bay, Dick heavily sat down on a gurney and pulled his domino off. Bruce quietly gathered the supplies he needed to stitch and clean the gunshot wound. 

“Are you gonna tell me what on earth is going on? Maybe start with why she’s here. Then go onto why she’s been allowed to stay. And then follow up with—I dunno, how you managed to get her _pregnant?_ How long has she been here, Bruce?”

Bruce sighed, sanitizing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. He carefully unwrapped the bandages and began unpacking the combat gauze, tossing it into a biohazard container nearby. 

Dick sucked in a breath as he worked, the wound burning as it was exposed to air.

“Talia came here to ask for help several days ago. She needed somewhere safe to hide from threats on her life. She told me she was pregnant while we were married and that she lost our baby. We divorced after that. I wasn’t aware that it was a lie until she showed up asking for a place to stay.”

“And you _let_ her stay? Even though she lied to you?”

“It’s called a second chance, Dick.”

Bruce began cleaning the wound in his shoulder, checking around his back to make sure there was an exit wound and no bullet fragments stuck inside. Dick sucked in a breath at the pressure against his injury, closing his eyes for a long moment before releasing it. 

“I think you’re out of your mind. You’ve got no reason to trust her. For all you know, she might be feeding Ra’s whatever information he wants to know about you and Jason,” Dick said.

Bruce sighed, grabbing a syringe tray, before injecting his shoulder with lidocaine and an antibiotic. Dick winced, and Bruce paused to give the numbing medication a few moments to kick in before he began suturing. 

“She’s earning the trust back. It takes time, but so far it’s been nice to have her here and Jason seems to like her too,” he replied, carefully beginning to suture his son’s shoulder. 

Dick looked up to his father, surprised at hearing the smile in his voice, completely caught off guard. 

“I—well, I’m glad you’re happy, Bruce. I hope it works out for you. Honestly, I do,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, finishing with his son’s shoulder, carefully rebandaging the injury. Dick stood up, rocking back on his heels, casually.

“Yeah...of course. Hey, I was wondering, can I borrow the Batcomputer before I head home? I’ve got a case I’m working on, looks like it might have something to do with Penguin, but I’d like to look at the dossiers.”

“Sure, but why don’t you head upstairs and get some rest, tonight? We could look at it in the morning, if you want,” Bruce offered. 

Dick frowned a little, unsure. It had been a long time since he’d spent the night at the Manor. But he didn’t have to work until the next evening, and the prospect of driving home seemed daunting with the way his shoulder felt.

“Alfred has been going above and beyond on breakfast lately. And I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

Of course, Bruce didn’t need to say anything more. 

* * *

While Bruce was downstairs with Dick, Talia was left with a sleeping child in her lap. 

“Jason,” she murmured, hoping it might be enough to wake him, but the boy didn’t stir. 

She sighed, gently shaking his shoulder as she repeated herself a little louder.

This time, the boy flinched, sitting up quickly and raising a fist in self defense, as though his first instinct was to strike out at whatever had woken him. Talia caught his wrist and frowned, recognizing the behavior. 

It was something she did as well. It was something that she had learned from being ambushed in her sleep at a very young age. That instinct to fight had been ingrained in her, and had followed her into adulthood. In fact, it was the reason Bruce nearly lost his ear a few nights before. It made her wonder about the rough upbringing the boy had before becoming a part of Bruce’s family.

“Jason...you’re safe. It’s okay, you’re safe...” She murmured, keeping her voice quiet.

He relaxed a little and blinked slowly as he reoriented himself. She released his wrist.

“Sorry—I—” Jason started, and Talia waved him off.

“You weren’t a threat to me. Now, I believe it’s time we both went to bed, don’t you think?” She asked, slowly getting up from the couch.

She was exhausted. Her back ached. Her feet ached. Bed was calling.

Jason followed her towards the stairs, his cape trailing behind him. The boy yawned, but grumbled something quietly. 

“What was that?” She asked, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she walked upstairs.

“Don’t wanna go to bed...”

Talia snorted, shaking her head.

“Mm, well you need to get as much sleep as you can...in a few months there will be a newborn here. They’re fairly loud, from what I’ve heard. They don't typically respect sleeping hours...” 

She said, walking Jason to his bedroom.

“So he’ll fit right in with us bats, huh?”

Talia tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. 

“The baby? How do you mean?”

Jason shrugged, throwing a grin at her before heading into his room.

“Bats are nocturnal.”

* * *

Bats may be nocturnal, but that fact didn’t keep Batman from heading directly to bed to soak up the last few hours of night. He opened the door to his bedroom, and stood there for a moment, surprised. It seemed that Talia had abandoned her bed, in favor of his. 

Bruce’s lips twitched up at the sight of her, curled on her side, already sound asleep. She was beautiful, he thought. For that brief moment, it almost felt as though nothing between them had changed. There was no rift in their relationship. For that moment, it was as though their marriage had lasted. She was asleep in his bed, just as she would be every night, for the rest of their life together. 

He sighed. The moment was fleeting, and he could feel the exhaustion in his bones. He undressed and joined her, carefully climbing into bed, trying his best not to wake her. 

She stirred slightly, shifting towards his warmth. He draped an arm across her waist, and she sighed softly. 

“Good night, Talia...” he whispered, and closed his eyes. 

For once, the people he cared for the most were all under one roof, and that knowledge alone was enough to bring him the most peaceful sleep he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hi, please note that I am not a doctor and I have a very basic concept of how gunshot injuries work/how they’re treated. Please don’t use this as any sort of medical advice! Always consult a healthcare provider for medical advice/treatment/etc*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, hope you enjoyed reading! More to come!
> 
> Title comes from “Hostage” by Billie Eilish 
> 
> Here’s that Geek History Lesson podcast I mentioned (https://youtu.be/q0PuWvVBVqo)


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